


i don't see you that often anymore

by Crykea



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, As the pairing would suggest i made this tragic, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, Snapshots, T because i allude to sex but i dont write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 06:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crykea/pseuds/Crykea
Summary: They just have a few hours, a few minutes, a few seconds
Relationships: Horatio/Hamlet
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	i don't see you that often anymore

The weight of Hamlet’s body in his arms in comforting. 

The sun hasn’t quite reached their little corner of the world, so they have at least a few more hours at Horatio’s estimate. Only a few more hours before the sun reaches Horatio’s dormitory window. Hamlet is fast asleep against him. Horatio would be too if not for the people in the dormitory over being loud enough to wake him. As he lay in the darkness he stroked Hamlet’s hair. His sweet prince moved over in his sleep to nuzzle his face into the crook of Horatio’s neck before settling again to sleep.

Horatio’s blankets are pooled around Hamlet’s lower back, and even in his sleep, he is smiling softly. He doesn’t know how he got to be this lucky. Overcome with emotion, Horatio tugs him up slightly, gently, so that he can bury his face in his lover’s hair. He smells like flowers even after the night they’ve had. He doesn’t know how he does it.

He recalls laughter, and dancing, and kissing, and… He smiles into Hamlet’s hair, unable to resist pressing a kiss into his forehead. Somehow, this is what wakes the man. His dull brown eyes blink up at Horatio, the quirk of his lips soon covered with another kiss. A tired hum in his chest as he flips them over. They have a few more hours yet until they must awake.

The weight of Hamlet’s body in his arms is dizzying.

It’s so hard to keep themselves at an arm’s length, but they finally have a few minutes to themselves. They aren’t at school anymore. There isn’t a quiet empty dorm to retreat to here in Denmark. Ophelia has already found out about them, now sworn to secrecy, but she’s right when she tells them they need to be more careful if they don’t want anyone else to find out. It’s so hard when Hamlet is dressed up fancily for his family. 

Things are a bit strange currently. The majority of their time locked away together in Hamlet’s quarters is accompanied by sadness and comfort. Horatio understands. Of course, he understands. His arms hold Hamlet and he presses kisses into his cheeks. Horatio watches the pool of tears in Hamlet’s eyes threaten to become a flood, and presses kisses to his cheeks in retaliation.

He recalls a devastating letter from Hamlet’s mother, a sombre boat ride, and an arrival to the celebration of his mother’s marriage. Things are tense in Denmark, and Hamlet hasn’t been given any time to process his grief. When he can, Hamlet comes to him for a distraction that Horatio is more than willing to provide. Anything to help his prince. He lets Hamlet kiss him fiercely and pretends he can’t taste the saltwater on his own lips. They still have a few more minutes until Ophelia comes to their door.

The weight of Hamlet’s body in his arms is crushing.

No one else is around to judge Horatio on the tears in the eyes or the grip around Hamlet’s waist. They have what seems to be a few more seconds until the chill running through Horatio’s nerve-wracked veins spills into Hamlet’s circulatory system. Despite it all, Hamlet is laughing. It’s a choked and tired thing that bubbles in the same way it cuts. Watery eyes meet tear-streaked ones, and for some reason Horatio can’t understand, Hamlet’s are happy. There must be something to be said for having Horatio be the last thing he sees.

Blood is pooling through Horatio’s fingers and onto the marble floor beneath Hamlet’s body. The cut hadn’t looked that deep. It was shallow. This shouldn’t be happening. The same hand that stole the now empty chalice from Horatio’s grasp comes up to cup his cheek, thumb stroked under his eye. Hamlet weakly pulls him down into a tired kiss. If Horatio closes his eyes, he can pretend he can’t taste the tang of blood. If Horatio just kisses him again, he can pretend there’s enough poison left on Hamlet’s lips for him.

He recalls months of comfort and sadness, a cold family, and a wish that the two of them had stayed back at university. Horatio logically knows that there was nothing he could have done, but he can’t help but bite at his tongue until it bleeds. He can’t be expected to just keep living. No one would be able to blame him for the frantic kisses he pressed to Hamlet’s eyelids. When Hamlet softly tugs Horatio down for one last kiss, his lips are already cold. They had just a few seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> i had to read hamlet again with my little sibling for his english 30 class and immediately had to write tragic danish bfs  
find me on twitter @cryke-art and on tumblr @crykea


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